American Gods S1E6: Dead Wife
by LoveyHowl
Summary: Mad Sweeney and Laura Moon are on a road trip seeking a rendezvous with the Gods and the answer to the the Eternal Question: WTF?


American Gods S1E6

I have never read "American Gods" by Neil Gaiman. All that I know so far is because of the show on Starz.

I own nothing.

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Mad Sweeney looked over at Dead Wife and smirked to himself. What a rotting riot she was; he could have seen himself actually liking her if his coin wasn't lodged in her innards—and if he had met her before she'd become a stinking corpse. Of course, as pretty as she might have been in life, she was a bit too sparse for his taste. She had the curves, alright, but it was apparent that her talent for looking like a corpse had always been innate. However, it was the luckiest bit of fortune he'd had since he'd lost his coin—because it meant that she'd become a pile of white, sun-bleached bones just that much sooner. And then, fuck Grimnir, and his "man" Shadow Moon, and the ridiculous war brewing between the Gods, for he'd take his coin and head back to the trees...at least for a time, before he continued back properly on the way to his own destiny.

He had absolutely no problem death-shaming her; loved calling to her attention that she would be Dead Wife Soup du Jour, and soon, for the thought calmed his nerves and was a balm to his wounded pride because of how easily the little cunt was able to beat his ass at her pleasure. What the fuck was that all about, anyway? While he had no answer to that it was a welcomed distraction from the stink of Dead Wife, the stink of the back seat of the cab, and the incessant yapping of the other that was now along, literally, for the ride, in the form of a sweet little Djinn-loving cabbie.

After a rousing bit of extrapolation courtesy of the Djinn-Lover—and another bout of man-handling from the lepre-cunt—they'd all wound up at the Crocodile Bar.

After more nauseating conversation with Dead Wife and the Djinn-lover, Mad Sweeney had posed an honest question at the pair of them regarding men loving other men— _really_ loving other men, to the point of taking it in the back door, for in all of his years of existence that was a bit of happenstance that had never appealed enough to him to take part of. The Djinn-lover's silence was amusing but Mad Sweeney found Dead-wife's pronouncement to be only so much bravado. But then again, she was a woman of the New World—her answer might have been true but thinking of the logistics as to how any man with anything of substance to offer her could get it in without ripping her to shreds was as off-putting as her claim that she actually liked it. Then again, women were amazing creatures. Not that Mad Sweeney had a lot of time in his life to really enjoy that fact fully.

His thoughts went to his sweet, long-suffering wife Eroann, and the hell he'd left her in after the curse was placed upon him, which had forced her to marry another man and go on with her life; and of their bittersweet reunion, when he bade her well and on her way with his full blessing, his heart breaking as he said the words to her. It wouldn't have mattered if she'd waited for him; didn't matter that she wanted to; his destiny away from her had been set. And no matter how much a man may want her to—or need her to—he can't expect for his woman to wait for him when he goes away under such dire circumstances; for even if she does, and even if he comes back, they're both changed people in one way or another...and usually not for the better—especially after the Gods have taken a long, steaming piss all over your soul and the Fates conspire with them to seal your curse good and proper.

He could have expressed as much to Dead Wife, but deep in her rotting heart she already knew it; that same dead heart that had felt one sparking moment of life again—and she was on a mission to feel it again. _Yeah, good luck with that, lepre-cunt._

"What the fuck? Why are you looking at me like that?" came Dead Wife's voice at him suddenly, her whole body one unending, irritated question.

Mad Sweeney came back to their collective present and gave her a look but didn't dare to give voice to all of the thoughts running through his mind; she damn sure wouldn't appreciate hearing his insights regarding her predicament from him and he found it completely unnecessary to test his theory out.


End file.
